


Rich Appreciation Week 2020

by GabrielLives



Category: Driven (2019)
Genre: Blood mentioned, Coffee Shop, Entities, F/M, Fight Scene, First Time, Injury, Meet-Cute, Passing Out, Sort Of, Stabbing, coffee shop AU, damage to the family jewels, knife attack, ope i had to raise the rating, rating and warnings may change with new chapters, rich appreciation week 2020, sewing up a wound, sorry roger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25022419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GabrielLives/pseuds/GabrielLives
Summary: These are my fics for Rich appreciation week! I decided to make a 7 chapter fic instead of random drabbles. And this fic is all about ROGER!! Driven is an amazing movie and you should watch it.
Relationships: Roger/You, roger/reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 7
Collections: Richard Speight Jr Appreciation Week 2020





	1. Coffee Shop AU

Nights like this were always a mess. Torrential rain falling in thick sheets and lightning cracking so close the walls shook. Customers were scarce. Not like Y/N could blame them. Just the short walk from the parking lot to the open doors of  _ Shuffling Zombie Coffee  _ was enough to drown someone. 

But Y/N wouldn't close her doors. She really can't right now. This is a fresh business still. Just recently opened and every second those doors stay locked is another cup she could have sold. Another bump to get her out of the red. She’s put her whole being into starting her life over, and come hell or high water (literally) she would make this work. 

Y/N had already sent her only other employee home for the night, Oliver, a sweet kid who just needed a steady job, something stable. He really didn't want to leave her here all alone, but Y/N insisted. The storm coming was a big one, and Y/N couldn't handle the thought of letting him drive in that. He was young enough to be her son, and Y/N just wanted to make sure he was safe. 

She hummed as she listened to the rain pouring on the other side of the front window, wiping down the glass cases and counters. Might as well clean up since it was highly unlikely anyone would be walking through the doors for the rest of the night.

No one in their right kind would be out in this god forsaken weather. 

_ Bing bong _

The sound of the door chime surprised her, but hey, a sale’s a sale.

Y/N eyed the man still standing at the cafe’s threshold. He was peering through the window, gray hood pulled up high to block her view of his face and his overcoat dripping pools of water onto her floor. There was a satchel clutch tightly in his hands. 

“Uh...Hello?” Y/N called. The man turned his head sharply, clearly not expecting anyone to speak to him. His eyes were still hidden under his soaked hood, but Y/N could see a bearded chin and the point of a nose, a drop of rain dripping off the end. 

Y/N felt a small pang of nervousness. But just as quickly the man turned to her completely, a hand coming up to toss his hood back, a warm smile on his face.

“Hey there!” 

The pang of nerves slid away, making room for a smattering of butterflies to make their way up Y/N’s throat.  _ Oh, he’s cute. _

“Some night out there, huh?” The man’s attitude was loose and carefree, the tense air surrounding him when he first came in dissolving away. 

“Oh. Yeah, it’s terrible.” Y/N flashed a smile, admiring amber eyes as he closed in on the counter. There was a moment where the two of them stood at either side of the counter in silence before Y/N remembered she had a job to do. “Um, welcome to the  _ Shuffling Zombie.  _ What can I get for you tonight.” 

“Um…how about…” The man sucked a bit of air through his teeth as he mused over the menu. “Let me get a macchiato with a double shot of espresso.”

“Wow,” Y/N said with a chuckle as she typed in the order. “A double shot this late? Must be a night owl, huh? That’ll be four seventy five.” 

“Nature of my job, I guess.” He handed over a crisp twenty.

“Sounds like that’d be exhausting,” Y/N said as she handed him his change. A step to the left and she picked up a paper cup, sharpie poised above the empty speech bubble over the snarling (but not overly terrifying) zombie face printed there. “Name?”

“Roger."

“Roger,” she repeated, a coy smirk on her lips as she wrote. “I'll, ah, have that ready for you in a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” Roger smiled as he dropped some singles in the tip jar. “I'm...I’m just gonna step into the bathroom for a quick sec. Try to dry off a little bit.” 

“Should be ready by the time you get out.”

Y/N watched him go, caught the nervous look back he gave her, and mentally slapped herself with a chuckle.  _ You can't ogle people like that. _ So she busied herself with making Roger’s drink. True to her word, his double macchiato was ready before he returned, but the real surprise was the new customer that had appeared at her counter. 

She hadn't heard the chime go off. Maybe she was a little too distracted thinking about the guy peeling his few outermost layers off in her bathroom. 

“Sorry about that,” she said, embarrassed. “Didn't hear you come in.” The woman across the counter said nothing. Just stared at her. Y/N’s nerves were starting to go off again. “Uh, what can I get you?”

The strange woman closed her eyes, lifted her head and took in a long slow sniff of the air. Her eyes opened again, and Y/N found herself taking a few steps back. “He’s here,” the woman said, her voice scratchy and deep.

“W-Who?”

She smiled, a terrible looking thing that had Y/N’s heart beating frantically in her chest.

“The man I'm going to kill.”


	2. First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This works because I say it does

How fast can a person dial 911? 

The question idly bounced around Y/N’s mind as she blinked dumbly at the woman on the other side of her counter. 

“Where is he?” the woman asked, her voice still rumbling too deep to be normal.

“I-I don't know who you're talking about.” Y/N jumped suddenly when the woman slammed her fists on the steel countertop, the glint of a small knife in her fist catching Y/N’s eye. 

“The hunter!” she screamed. “Where is he!? Or would you rather take his place?” 

The thought of 911 ran through Y/N’s mind again, albeit a little more frantically than before. Too bad she realized her phone wasn't in her pocket right now. Ok, maybe she could try and talk this person down. Obviously they weren't in their right mind, but damn it was all she could do right now. 

Y/N opened her mouth, body shaking and not even knowing what she was going to say, but was cut off by the sound of the bathroom door opening up down the side hall. She heard footsteps, light and easy; he had no idea what he was walking into! The woman’s devilish smile perked up again, nostrils flaring as she scented the air again. 

_ God, that’s so creepy. _

Roger rounded the corner, completely oblivious to the danger out in the front area. He stopped in his tracks, paper towel frozen in his hands. Amber eyes bounced between the two women in the lobby.

“Oh, shit.”

The woman raised her knife, let out an inhumanly loud screech, and was on Roger in a flash. 

He almost wasn't ready for her. Roger’s leather satchel was whipped around just in time, and a well aimed swipe knocked the woman off balance. Y/N heard the knife skitter across the linoleum floor as she ran to grab her phone. 

Even though she was disarmed, that didn't mean this nasty woman was powerless. She punched, clawed, grabbed as Roger fought back as best he could. A well timed punch sent Roger flailing back onto a table, and Y/N had barely hit the little green call button to call 911 on her phone when she saw Roger come back with...was that a salt shaker? Did he just throw salt at someone throwing punches?? The weirdest thing was that it looked like it really did some damage. 

The woman reeled back, screaming in pain as she tried to wipe the tiny salt crystals from her face. 

_ “911, where is your emergency?”  _ The tinny voice of the 911 operator filtered through the speaker.

“SILVER!”

Y/N eyes whipped over to Roger again. “What?!”

“I need something silver!” he yelled, finally getting a little bit of an upper hand and grasping the still struggling woman in a headlock.

_ “Hello? Ma’am?”  _

Abandoning the phone, Y/N frantically scanned through her equipment behind the counter. Chrome, steel, more chrome. Ugh! 

“Can't you just knock her out?!!” Y/N yelled.

Roger growled as the woman flailed even harder. “Uh, she’s a little worked up for that right now.” 

Y/N ran a frustrated hand through her hair; nothing looked like it would work.

“Come on!”

“I’m  _ looking!” _

Finally, up on the walls, Y/N saw something that would work. An antique silverware set that her mother had gifted when she opened her doors to her business.  _ Been in the family for generations, _ she had said. Now all she could do was hope that her ancestors weren't cheap-o’s or liars. 

Y/N climbed up on the rickety stool, her fingers just barely reaching along the edge of the shadow box. This had better be worth it. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N saw the two of them still struggling. The woman broke Roger’s hold on her, turned quick, and landed a kick right between his legs. 

Roger let out a sharp moan of pain, and Y/N flinched in sympathy, hissing through her teeth. The woman gave him no time to recover, though, as she pulled her arm back and punched him square in the jaw. Roger fell to the floor, and the woman turned her anger to Y/N, still standing on the stool, shadow box in hand. 

Before the woman could take a step towards her, Y/N smashed the box to the ground, Roger’s pained groans still filling the air. Well, at least he hadn't passed out. 

Heart beating furiously, Y/N, as carefully as she could, sifted through the shattered glass to grab the biggest knife in the silverware set. Shit, it was a three inch butter knife. Not even sharp. But Y/N held it in her shaking fists like it was her only hope. 

Because maybe it was.

“S-Stay back!” The tremor in her voice was prominent, but she tried to hold the small knife with some sort of conviction.

“Maybe you’d like to be one of  _ us,  _ eh girl?” The woman leapt onto the counter with no effort at all, sending Y/N jumping back. She cackled at Y/N’s obvious fear, stalking forward to crowd against her, Y/N’s knife pressing onto her chest. “You,” she crooned, “would love it.”

“Her mouth…”

Y/N and the woman both turned back to Roger, standing on his shaking legs and supporting himself on a table. 

“What?” Y/N asked.

“Put the silver in her  _ mouth!”  _

Y/N and the woman turned back to each other, Y/N’s wide eyes meeting the narrowed angry ones of her attacker. She took in a sharp breath, and lunged forward, pressing the knife to the woman's lips. There was a sizzling sound, and the woman opened her mouth to scream in pain. When her lips parted, Y/N jammed the knife in further, a white light burning up from her throat. 

She screeched even louder, her body tensing up before she crumbled at Y/N’s feet. 

There were a few moments where Y/N could only hear the rain falling, a gentle static that kept her from screaming herself. Her breaths came out in ragged pants, and she idly thought this day couldn't get any worse.

“Congratulations.” 

Y/N turned her head, slowly looking over to Roger, still recovering from the swift kick to his manhood.

“You just exercised your first demon.”

“Wha-?”

“For lack of a better word.”


	3. Role Reversal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Y/N's turn to do the hunting.

"D-Demons?"

“Damn,” Roger coughed, legs still shaking as he rubbed the soreness out of his groin. “Never leave the jewels out in the open. That's just askin’ for trouble.”

_ “Hey!”  _ Y/N called as she threw the antique knife across the room in frustration, “what the  _ fuck _ was that!!”

With one last adjustment, Roger finally turned his eyes to Y/N. His brows still knit together slightly with every limped step as he approached the counter. “Ah, is she still breathing? You didn't choke her to death, did ya?”

Y/N flexed her hands into fists in frustration. “She tried to kill  _ me!”  _ she scoffed, “and you're worried about whether or not  _ she’s  _ ok?!” 

“You don't understand.” Roger leaned over the counter, groaning at the stretch. He watched for a moment, seeing no blood spreading into the broken glass and tumbled paper cups. “Oh good,” he sighed, “she's still breathing.”

_ “Dude.”  _

“Look,” Roger started as he straightened back up, “this is...well, it's complicated, to say the least. I don't like to get outside people involved, but-”

Suddenly, Roger’s head whipped toward the glass door, the faint sound of sirens woven through the sound of the falling rain, and only getting closer.

“You called the police?!”

“She bum rushed you!” Y/N yelled, throwing her hands in the air. “What the hell else was I supposed to do?!”

“We need to get out of here,” Roger muttered, “and fast.” He turned back to Y/N, a look on his face that Y/N could only call desperate. Roger held out his hand to her, eyes sparkling in invitation. “Lets go. Please.” 

And with only a moment to think it through, Y/N took his outstretched hand and escaped into the rain soaked night with him.

~~

At a bus stop a few blocks away from her shop, Y/N sat with her head in her hands, bemoaning every decision that led her here. 

“Silver, that’s how I, well, I guess you could say I exorcise demons from the humans they possess.”

Y/N sat up straight, a look of incredulousness on her face. “Demons. You keep saying demons.”

Roger only shrugged. “For lack of a better word.”

“The hell does that even  _ mean?” _

“It means that all I have to go on is the information that I’ve managed to uncover after twenty years of hunting these things.” Roger matched Y/N’s frustration with his own, arms gesturing wildly. “When  _ you  _ try and hunt an malevolent species intent on invading our world every chance it can, you can call it what you want. These things are my problem, my  _ burden.  _ So I call them demons.”

Y/N sighed, frustration melting away as she raked her wet hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry, Roger. I really am. But this is so far out of left field I can't even comprehend it.”

“I’m sorry. It can be a lot to handle,” Roger apologized. He rubbed Y/N’s back in comfort, voice softening as much as it could without getting lost in the downpour. “But know that everything I told you is the truth.”

“I believe you,” Y/N replied tiredly, leaning a little into the soothing touch. “But how can I go back to my life now? What happens if one comes back? I can't call you. You seem like the kind of guy who doesn't stay in one place for too long,” she said with a small smile. 

“Can't,” Roger replied with his own smirk. “Once these things know I’m onto them, most of them move on to the next town. I have to follow the herd, as it were. It's the only way I can stay ahead of this damn curse.”

They sat for a moment, huddled close under the bus stop awning and shivering through their rain soaked clothes. Roger kept an eye to the horizon, keeping watch as Y/N processed the information he unceremoniously dumped on her. 

“Could-,” Y/N started with uncertainty, “Could you...maybe…teach me how to protect myself?” She looked up, into the green gold of Roger’s eyes. “You can't tell me all this and then skip town. I'll never be able to trust anyone ever again. They will all be...just...demons.”

Roger hummed, fingers playing on the strap of his satchel. 

“Ok.” 

~~   
Y/N walked through the crowded promenade, nervous and excited all at once. This was her chance. To show that she could take all that Roger had taught her, or at least what he could teach her in less than an hour under the rain soaked bus stop. She just needed to be able to identify. That was important. Roger said they move, tried to keep ahead of the hunter and make new demons as they travel. They need numbers. Roger didn't say what for, or why any of this was happening, but Y/N didn't need to know. 

It didn't matter.

She just needed to be able to do this one thing. To prove that she could be as much of a hunter as she needed to be.

_ They’ll know that you know,  _ Roger had said.  _ You can see it in their eyes. A flash of black. No one else can see it. They don't want to. But you know what to look for now.  _

The heavy rains finally waned to a light drizzle, the sidewalks filled with window shoppers and the late dinner crowd. Y/N pulled the collar of Roger’s borrowed overcoat tighter around her neck, her other hand stuffed in the front pocket, fingers clutched around the small bottle of salt and herbs he gave her.  _ For defense only,  _ he said.  _ If you need it, toss it in their face and run. _ She slowly circled the shopping center, eyes darting from person to person, trying to spot a demon. 

The people here seemed normal. Conversations lilted through the air, all normal from what Y/N could hear. Maybe Roger was wrong. Maybe there wasn't another demon walking around. Or maybe Y/N just couldn't spot them. The thought had her heart leaping up into her throat. She swallowed, fingers tightening on the vile and wishing she had the sense to keep her little knife and-

Y/N was knocked out of her thoughts as a man roughly bumped into her shoulder, spinning her around and almost sending her to the still wet ground. Others still moved around her, but the man who struck her was standing stone still, looking back over his shoulder at her, a devious looking smirk on his face. Y/N stared, gasping in fear as the whites of his eyes swirled, then flashed to black before returning to normal. The man stood tall, huffing a confident laugh and a, “Sorry,” before turning and striding away. 

_ They’ll know you know,  _ repeated in her mind. Roger’s quick lessons at the bus station essentially ended at identification and detection. After that?  _ I’ll find you. Don't do anything stupid.  _

“Shit,” Y/N muttered, turning on the spot, hoping to see if Roger had been tailing her. What the hell did that mean? I’ll find you. Could he be any more vague?  _ “Shit!”  _

Roger wasn't anywhere in the crowd, and every second she waited this demon was getting further away. Frantically, Y/N scrambled through Roger’s pockets, looking for anything that could help. She had the vile, of course, but other than that? She needed something,  _ anything!  _ And in one of the inside pockets, Y/N found a pocket knife. The handle was ornately engraved, and as she unfolded the small serrated blade, Y/N knew that it was silver.  _ I’m prepared for anything. _

Without a second thought, Y/N took off after the demon, determined to take care of this. After a few moments, she caught sight of the man strolling easily down the paved path. His eyes seemed to linger on the people passing around him instead of the shops he passed, and it sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. 

She followed him through the shopping center, until he passed the last shop at the end of the street. Instead of turning around, the man turned down the back alley, where shops' back doors and emergency exits opened up to the narrow road.

Y/N peered around the corner, pocket knife in one hand and the vile of salt in the other. She could do this,  _ she could do this!  _ A tremor rumbled through her body, but she ignored it. 

To her surprise, the man had disappeared. Only a long row of dumpsters and an occasional pile of boxes greeted her. The overhead street lights flickered and hummed with each of her hesitant steps deeper into the alley. 

Y/N’s eyes strained against the harsh light, the haze of rain starting to fall once again. She blinked the drops from her eyelashes, tightening the grip on her only weapons. One foot in front of the other, Y/N slowly advanced into the alley, the knife extended out as her only protection. Her breath came out in shaky pants, rising as a fog through the fresh rain. 

The first dumpster was open, and Y/N approached slowly. She ducked low along the side, raising up high enough to peek inside. Only garbage bags and folded boxes. Y/N exhaled in relief. 

Slowly, she crept around the front of the dumpster, Roger’s pocket knife still in front of her. With a silent psych up, Y/N quickly rounded the corner of the dumpster. 

And was greeted with a harsh grip on her wrist and a punch to the face. 

The demon she had been following kept his grip on her arm, holding her up as she stumbled from the surprise blow. 

“And who might you be, hmm?” the demon snickered. “Working with that hunter? Well, that was a mistake on your part. Because the only good hunter is a dead-  _ aaahhggg!!” _

Y/N cut off the demon with a splash of salt from her free hand. The demon loosened his grip just enough for her to wrench her hand free. It was sore but still good enough to hold the knife. She took a few stumbling steps backwards, wiping away a bit of wetness on her face. She pulled her hand away and found blood smeared there. 

“Ugh,” she groaned. The man groaned and writhed on the wet ground for a moment more before he pulled himself back up, eyes flashing black and staying that way. 

“Oohhh, I am going to enjoy turning you.” His skin sizzled a bit more as the rain washed the salt from his face. “Slow... yeah. I’m gonna go slow.” The man took a few steps forward, and Y/N matched his steps in the opposite direction. “It’ll be a brand new experience, sweetheart. Nothing else like it. You'll love being one of us.”

With a guttural yell, Y/N rushed him. She just had to touch him with her knife, like with the woman in her store, then this poor guy could be free of the beast that had taken over him. But with a swift smack of his hand her knife went flying across the alley, and then a sweep of his leg and Y/N was on her ass, smacking her head on the pavement and seeing stars. 

She groaned, blinking back the blackness of passing out. That was a death sentence, she knew. She tried to take a deep breath, but suddenly all of the air was punched out of her lungs as a heavy weight dropped onto her torso. As her vision cleared, Y/N’s whole body froze as she gazed up at the demon on top of her. 

He had produced his own knife, waving it in front of her face. It was small like hers, but still, it was enough to do some damage. 

“Don't worry,” he cooed with a sick smile, “I won't kill you. Looks like you've got potential. But…”

His knife plunged into her shoulder, and Y/N screamed.

The demon laughed. “You'll live.”

The next thing she knew, the man was ducking down low, whispering nonsensical words in her ears. Y/N struggled to push him away, but he only pressed his fingers hard into her injured shoulder. The blackness was creeping up on Y/N again, and no amount of struggling was going to keep it at bay this time, she knew. The fight left her body, and sank further into the back of her mind as she felt  _ something _ try to worm its way in. 

Then the man was screaming, a white light burning up through his throat and eyes. He passed out after a moment, and Y/N braced for him to collapse onto her, but instead he was pulled back and flung roughly to the side. She looked up, seeing Roger standing there in his hoodie, the discarded knife in his hand. 

“If you're gonna be a demon, you can't have my jacket.”

Y/N let out a sound that tried to be a laugh, then the last of her strength left her and she let the darkness overtake her.


	4. Hurt/Comfort

Y/N felt the fog of unconsciousness lifting, and fought it hard. The softness under her back was the only small comfort she felt through the pain emanating from her shoulder. It came in and out in waves, a weight pressing down on her whole arm as pins and needles prickled through her skin. 

She tried to roll to the side, to avoid the heaviness on her and drift back off to nothingness for a little while longer, but the weight only came back stronger, holding Y/N flat on her back and unable to move away. The waves of tingling in her shoulder rolled in and out faster, felt a little frantic and a lot more painful.

“Just hold still.” 

A voice growled close to Y/N’s ear, hissed through teeth and on the wrong side of frustrated. Memories of the rain soaked ally and the demon on top of her flooded back in an instant, and Y/N’s adrenaline spiked. Before she could even open her eyes, Y/N was fighting. Her free hand flew on its own, the smack of skin against skin echoing around her as Y/N connected a slap to the face hunched too close to hers.

“Aaaahhoww!!” 

All too quick she realized her mistake.

“Jesus!” Y/N yelled as she sat up like a shot, “Roger?!”

“The  _ hell!?”  _ Roger moaned, a hand covering his face, “I had a needle between my teeth!” 

“Oh shit!” A glance down and Y/N caught sight of her half sewn stab wound, the thread hanging down to stick to the little bit of blood still left on her exposed arm. “God, I’m sorry! Are you ok?”

Roger groaned, checking his hand for his own blood. “Man, you sure can aim when you're unconscious,” he sniffed. “Got me right in the nose.”

“Sorry,” Y/N winced, clutching her arm. “But what the hell are you doing?”

“I was trying to finish stitching you up before you came to.” Roger let out a small laugh. “Guess I had the wrong idea.”

“No. No, it’s fine.” With a reassuring pat on his arm, Y/N settled back on the bed she found herself on. She found some comfort in Roger’s raised eyebrow, silently asking for permission to finish his work on her wound. Y/N nodded, and her heartbeat soared as Roger grabbed her other hand, the same one that slapped him, and brought it up to his shoulder.

“Here,” he said quietly. “Give it a grip if it hurts too much.”

Y/N nodded again, a little more flustered this time, and Roger nodded once more before he gathered his tools and returned to sewing up her wound, a little more delicately this time. Although delicacy can really do nothing to dull the pain of a rather large needle piercing the skin. 

Y/N hissed at the ache, fingers clutching at the soft maroon fabric of Roger’s shirt as he made another pass. 

“Talk to me, Goose,” Roger teased, hiding his own wince from Y/N’s grip. “Distraction is the way to get through it. Just like getting a tattoo.”

“D-Do you have one of those?” Y/N muttered as Roger worked.

“Hell no,” he laughed. “Hate those needles.”

Y/N flinched again, her own chuckle strained. “Where  _ -ow!-  _ where are we?”

“My hotel room.”

“How the hell did you get me here?”

“Ummm…” Roger paused, nervousness halting his movements for a beat. “I guess...well, I don't have a car… so I kinda had to carry you.” 

The room fell quiet for a moment, Y/N sighing as Roger finished his last stitch. She hissed harshly as he swiped an alcohol pad over his work and set his tools aside to clean later. 

“You ok?” he asked, concerned. “About everything, I mean.” 

“Yeah,” Y/N answered. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

Roger smiled and patted her leg. “Good.” He grabbed a folded blanket from the end of the bed and draped it over Y/N’s shoulders, letting her get comfortable. “Well, it’s just late enough to order a pizza. We should get some food in you before you go into shock, or something.”

Y/N pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, careful of the tenderness around her stitches, watching fondly as Roger searched through the hotel room’s take out menu selection. 


End file.
